


Romantic Consequences of The Hero's Journey

by annieedisongf



Category: Community (TV)
Genre: Getting Together, M/M, Mutual Pining, but they get there, mild internalised homophobia, obligatory trobed reunion fic, pov switching between chapters, the study group are platonic soulmates, they are v stressed and anxious though, troy and abed love each other more than words can say
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-08
Updated: 2020-10-24
Packaged: 2021-03-08 00:22:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,985
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26896627
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/annieedisongf/pseuds/annieedisongf
Summary: Troy comes home, equipped with life-altering realizations, impending confessions, and a truckload of love and longing.
Relationships: Background Jeff Winger/Britta Perry, Troy Barnes/Abed Nadir
Comments: 7
Kudos: 51





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> hello and welcome to my obligatory trobed reunion fic. this is just a tiny little prologue to set the scene. i plan for the whole thing to be a few chapters long, so you're welcome to chewn in <3

The lava never reappeared.

For a short while, Abed had been certain it would. It had seemed highly unlikely that Britta would _accidentally_ succeed at the very complex procedure of removing the emotional component in the cloning sequence. Not outside the realm of possibility, granted, but far less plausible than a monkey churning out the _Die Hard_ script by hitting random keys. Abed’s explanation of his undoubtedly short reprieve had proclaimed the lack of lava a temporary side effect.

But the weeks had passed with his feet remaining unscorched, and the amassed apprehension had begun to feel even more threatening than infinite-degree burns. Because the sad, unspoken truth had been that the bad feeling had remained – what had left him was his outlet, the tangible mark of his despair.

He’d only detected the heat enveloping his body about a month later. It must have appeared right after the cloning, and had gone unnoticed due to its subtlety. The slightly oppressive _it’s so hot in here_ , unencumbered by their champion A/C unit, had come with no visuals, no additional burning sensations.

At first, he’d struggled with it almost as much as with the imminent danger of a lava bath. Soft sweaters and cozy cardigans had been banished from his wardrobe. Slowly and with slight reluctance, Greendale had gotten used to the image of Abed Nadir wearing a tank top and shorts in the pinching, post-Halloween air. The special drink recipe had been altered to accommodate five friendly ice cubes. But the heat, immune to the progressively more creative obstacles, had remained. It had never increased. It had never changed its frequency, never come in waves of varying intensity. It had just stayed with him.

He’d only seen it fit to accept it as a part of his life. Stranger and more troubling things had happened. If anyone had been used to discomfort, it’d been him. He’d bought brand new soft sweaters. He’d dug out the good old special drink recipe. He’d started dating. He’d formed new friendships and modified the already existing ones. He’d forgotten all about the chill. He’d been okay. He’d felt hot. He’d adapted.

In many ways, moving to L.A. had marked a natural progression. It had been hot and heavy there, yes, but openly so, with no hostility directed specifically at him. He’d come to appreciate his surroundings once again matching his inner life. It hadn’t been home, but at least it hadn’t been haunted. He couldn’t do haunted anymore.

Two years after the cloning, Abed found himself slouching on the kitchen counter, feet bumping rhythmically against the cracked wood of the drawers. An uncharacteristically homely glow beamed through the open window of his apartment, as if deliberately offering him a brief respite from the hardships of the day’s work. No dice, he thought. That task belonged to buttered noodles now.

The ping of the microwave almost drowned out the sound of his phone vibrating, but he managed to pick it up. Only one person would dare to interrupt his evening routine, and that person was located a thousand miles away from him, probably didn’t mean to bother him, but had gotten very confused about the timezones, or just had the rare and fleeting opportunity to call, and knew he would appreciate it nevertheless.

He knew how it would go: they would spend roughly twenty minutes catching up, exchange pleasantries, and promise to call each other very soon. At the end, Troy would tell him that the trip got prolonged again due to unforeseen complications, but he would definitely come home some indefinite time soon. Abed would smile and agree, knowing Troy would definitely _not_ come home. The call would end, and it would be okay.

Picking up the phone, Abed had felt a slight chill flitting across his spine.

***

On the first night, Troy had decided he’d hated boats.

He’d hated everything about them: the rocking, the weird new words he’d had to learn, the way everything had been so small and pokey all the time, like it’d been meant for monkeys or for Ant-Man, and even Ant-Man would probably get annoyed if he couldn’t ever change into his regular size without hitting his head, and he would definitely hate boats as much as Troy’d done, and he would miss Abed just the same. Who wouldn’t?

If Abed were there, Troy’d thought, he would plaster the inside of the boat with orange tape and simulate a king-size bed. He would turn this boring yacht into a pirate ship, and he would do an awesome impression of Hector Barbossa. And if Troy got sleepy from manning the wheel, Abed would get a cozy blanket and wrap Troy up. The wheel would probably manage on its own if Abed told it to. He was magic like that.

On the first night, Troy hadn’t slept. The miserable lack of the comforting weight beside him had kept jolting him awake.

It had gotten better, eventually. He’d started to enjoy sightseeing, and sailing, even. Admittedly, the marvels of the world had seemed way more bland than described, and the pirate kidnapping, terrifying as it’d left him, couldn’t compare to his and Abed’s _Captain Phillips_ reenactments, adventure-wise. 

He’d learned to recognize the signs of occasional despair, in case of which he would call (or compose a text in his drafts, if the connection were down) Abed, and talk to him about nothing in particular, and it’d made everything great again. Almost.

But there’d been times when he’d become overwhelmed with a sudden desire to pour his heart out, to tell Abed Something, except he’d had no idea what that Something had been. He’d usually settle on “I miss you”, but it’d never seemed like enough. _It would be easier_ , he’d thought, _if he could just be here, holding me. He’d probably know what I mean better than I do_.

At times like these, he couldn’t bring himself to talk to Abed, knowing that the mere sound of his voice would take him back to the time when he’d been grounded, when everything had been unimportant and perfect. And that would make both him and his brain cry, and he would say “Screw the money! Screw this trip!”, jump into the ocean, and try to swim back, and he couldn’t even swim all that well.

Instead, he’d contact Britta. Their talks hadn’t made his stomach burst with excitement quite as much, but they’d been calming and laced with love. She would update him on the newest Greendale developments, share her concerns over her own non-existent career path, and ask for advice about her newly-developing (and very surprising, to Troy at least) relationship with Jeff. He would tell her things he’d actually wanted to tell Abed, but felt too embarrassed for some reason: how unhappy with himself he’d been for not managing to be an Individual, for seeing Abed in every place he’d visited instead of Growing and Changing, how he’d wanted to become this Individual already, so he could see Abed again, but without being all weird and needy like he used to, how he’d been really worried he could never become this Individual, because so much time had passed, and he still couldn’t stop thinking about doing everything with Abed, holding Abed, and kissing Abed. 

For a long time, her response had remained the same – she would ask “How does that make you feel?” over and over again until he’d run out of feelings to tell her about. Apparently, that hadn’t satisfied her, because one particular night, when he’d just come back from a film museum in Amsterdam, tears unexpectedly forming in the crinkles of his eyes, she’d changed her approach.

At first, he’d laughed at her. He couldn’t be in love with his best friend, that’d made no sense whatsoever. But the more he’d thought about it, and the more miles he’d travelled, the more sense it’d make. The weird, intense bursts of jealousy whenever he’d seen Abed flirting with someone? The fury he’d directed at Mariah because she’d turned Abed down, and had she even realized how lucky she’d been? The way he could only think of pressing his head into Abed’s chest when he’d been cuddling with Britta? The way he’d had to die and clone himself so he could even bring himself to leave Abed for a longer while? _Oh shit_ , he’d thought, even though he hated swearing, _I’m in love with him._

He’d quickly decided that he would have no choice but to confess his feelings, even though he’d been pretty sure that they wouldn’t be reciprocated. Abed was, after all, much more observant than Troy; he’d definitely noticed and decided not to do anything about it. And that was okay, it really was. Being friends with Abed, just friends, already felt like looking into the sun, except that the sun cared for him enough not to make his eyes prickle. Like a really nice cartoon sun, Troy could live a long, happy life, looking into this sun, and being denied the other kind of brightness, the romance kind or whatever. But he still wanted to ask for it, if only because he felt like the sun had the right to know.

So when he reached the shore of Madeira, his second-to-last checkpoint, he wasted no time dialing Abed’s number from a payphone, even though it probably would have been better to wait for his mobile signal to appear, or at least to find a more convenient location than a puke-stained booth by the docking point entrance.

“ _He-ey_ , Abed, how are you, buddy?” Troy desperately hoped the cracking of his voice would go unnoticed. “Listen, I don’t have much time, cause this is an old-timey coin phone, and I had to beg LeVar to let me borrow some coins from him, cause I had none, and… Oh, man, I’ve just wasted precious seconds explaining all that. Anyway, I’ll probably be coming home in about a month. I mean, not home, hah, we’re gonna be docking in L.A., and I really really want to see you if that’s what you want too, and we can tell the others but I wanted you to be the first and I really miss you and–”

He was cut off abruptly with a loud signal and a voice message in a foreign language, probably asking for more stupid coins.

So that was it. He couldn’t even hear Abed’s response, and there were no more coins, and everything was terrible. What if Abed didn’t even want him to come? What if Abed had been kidnapped and the person on the other line had actually been a mob boss asking for ransom money? What if–

His phone blared with the sound of an incoming text message.

_**abed <3** _

_I can’t wait to see you. And I miss you too._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for reading <3
> 
> if you want to yell about trobed, you can check my tumblr @annieedisongf <3


	2. Chapter 2

It was as soon as Troy saw the outline of L.A. point of entry that he remembered he had meant to keep a captain’s log, like in Star Trek. He could picture it so clearly. “Captain’s Log. Stardate 3489”. Except that he wasn’t in space, he was on the sea, so it would probably be called Starfishdate, or something else that was like the sea but smaller.

He was kinda angry with himself for not going through with it. With his friends waiting for him at the entry's parking lot, ready to reunite after two years of separation, he felt an immense pressure weighing on him. One is supposed to come back from an around-the-world trip carrying a buttload of stories, but, at the moment, Troy's brain was too busy weeping with the intensity of what was about to come to remember any of his adventures.

Thankfully, some of it had already been told. The pirate kidnapping, for example. When the whole thing had gotten resolved and he could finally contact his friends, they’d screamed and cried and demanded an explanation. Troy remembered that he’d been a little confused at the time, because, well, he’d forgotten that they’d had a good reason to be worried. Pirates sounded awesome, yeah, but they also sounded scary, and how could Abed have known that neither of them had a hook for a hand? How could Annie have known that they weren’t even wearing hats, just novelty t-shirts with funny texts? How could Shirley have known that they weren’t trying to feed Troy to crocodiles? How could Jeff have known that they’d only captured Troy because he’d been trying to get a picture of them for Abed and they thought he wanted to report them? How could Britta have known that Troy would promise not to say a word to the coast guard, because hello, he wasn’t a snitch, just a guy who’d had to sail around the world to get his dead friend’s inheritance, and he would be more than happy to give them some money, actually, because they seemed really cool, and that they’d actually believe and befriend him? (To be fair, Britta apparently had known that, because when he’d described the encounter in the groupchat, she’d immediately responded “I knew it!” and then had said something about Capital, and Class War, and Counterculture, and good for Troy for being a Comrade, and some other deep words that began with a c. Troy still didn’t really get it, but she’d seemed happy.) They weren’t as well-traveled and sophisticated as Troy now was, of course they’d been worried and wanted to hear it all.

But the other, less scary and less awesome, but still pretty awesome, stuff? His friends didn’t know about it, and Troy might not have remembered enough to tell it. Would they be dissapointed? Would they tell him that they shouldn’t have come, that he was still the same boring, stupid Troy, and how was that even possible, he should have gotten more mature and interesting? Would Abed tell him that he couldn’t be best friends with someone who couldn’t even become an Own Person like they’d said they would? That Troy would always be the sidekick, and Abed was too awesome to hang out with a sidekick for the rest of his life?

Troy shook his head. No, he told himself. This trip wasn’t homework or anything like that. He wasn’t meeting his judgy 5th grade teacher on that shore, he was meeting his friends, his family. And if there was any lesson to be taken from that boat, it was that he was his Own Person, he’d always been one, and his friends had never expected anything more than he’d been able to give them. Not even Abed.

Especially not Abed.

“Ready to dock, captain?” LeVar asked, suddenly leaning out from behind Troy.

Troy let the all too familiar sight of the waves bathing in sunlight replace his musings. Before his eyes, a goodbye message unfolded, one that he recognized as impossible to read, but remarkably easy to comprehend. He was being spat out by the sea, and commanded not to come back alone. Just a few more minutes (or, realistically, a few more hours, given the usual snoopiness of the coast guard), and he would see them all again. He would see Abed again. Troy was pretty sure that professor Kane had once declared it impossible for a human heart to do somersaults. But maybe professor Kane had just never seen the heart of a hero.

***

Everytime Troy had stepped out of the point of entry building, he’d inhale deeply to check the new air. That’s what people do in movies, he’d told himself. Leave the airport and inhale, probably to smell the new place. Troy hadn’t really understood it, but everyone who travelled in movies had a lot of awesome adventures on their trip, so he’d been determined to do it right.

The air never really smelled different, though. Wherever he’d be, it would always stink of fish and seaweed, and Troy always had to stop himself from puking. He’d never really gotten used to it.

But now, after having been thoroughly searched by the coast guard for what he’d realized was the last time, and after a very long and confusing meeting with Pierce’s lawyers, he stood before the exit, and even though the thick glass separated him from the stink, he could already smell it. The difference. It smelled like Shirley’s flower perfume he liked so much. Like Britta’s favorite leather jacket. Like Jeff’s expensive hair mousse. Like Annie’s hand lotion he’d steal all the time back in the day. Like Abed.

They weren’t there, of course they weren’t, he’d agreed to meet them at the visitor’s parking, but he could definitely smell them. He pushed the door open just as tears started to form in the corners of his eyes. The California sun hit him like a cartoonish beam, and before he knew it, he was running. There was no airport to run through, and no one to stop from leaving, and he was in no rush, except that he was, he was, he had to see them now, immediately, he couldn’t wait a second longer.

The bag strap dug into his shoulder with needless cruelty, and the heat had him panting in nl time, but he didn’t stop running until an elevator marked as “parking entrance” appeared before him. He almost crashed into the metal sliding door, but managed to halt in time.

It was only one floor, and the elevator moved painfully slowly, but the anticipation that had been building up in his gut made it feel like a dive roller coaster. He loved dive roller coasters. They were so much better than double loop roller coasters. Actually, they were so much better than almost everything.

“OH MY GOD, IT’S HIM!”

_Almost everything_ , the voice in his head repeated and shut up immediately after, because the elevator door had opened, and there they all were, just a few feet apart from him, holding a huge banner, which contained the words “WelTroy Home” emblazoned with name-brand glitter. Against the crude, sickly green pillars supporting the ceiling and its miswired lights, his friends’ unbridled glee looked comically out of place. It almost matched Greendale in terms of misguided cheeriness. It occurred to Troy that he could easily make this shabby indoor parking his home, if only he had all of them to help him.

He took his eyes off the banner, even though he really loved looking at glitter, and focused on his friends, a wistful smile settling on his face. Shirley’s hairstyle had changed, and Britta’s hair was darker, and Jeff had a beard, and Annie was wearing a suit that made her look so professional, and Abed…

Abed was _beautiful_. His hair had grown slightly, and it looked messier, and maybe softer, or maybe it just looked like Troy hadn’t touched it in two years even though he’d desperately wanted to, and he still wanted to, more than anything. As if that wasn't enough, Abed was sporting a tight, blue sweater that hugged his frame in all the right ways, and his mouth was crooked in an uneven smile, the one that had been playing in Troy's mind non-stop since the first night on the boat. It was the most in love Troy had ever been, tied with all the other times he'd looked at Abed.

He found himself unable to do anything but reach for him, arms dangling helplessly in place. He wanted to yell at his feet for not cooperating, but it felt like his throat had been replaced with a chocolate fudge lump, or as if he’d tried to swallow a troll doll, and he couldn’t get a word out.

They were all there, they really were, with their expressions slowly changing from excited to worried. Abed’s head cocked in confusion in that excruciatingly familiar way and that gave Troy the kick to start running again, to make all the worries and doubts and anything that wasn’t love and joy disappear forever.

He knew the group hug was coming. But it had to wait. After all, Troy’d only said goodbye to him last so he could one day say hello to him first.

Still, there was a considerable dose of apprehension in the way Troy approached Abed. He was 99% sure that he was still allowed to hug him, that he was supposed to hug him, but he knew that he had to ask. He wanted to ask.

“Clone Hug?”

“Clone Hug.” Abed responded, and the mere sound of his voice, even in its meek, unsure form, was enough for Troy to break down again.

Troy threw his arms around his best friend before his legs could turn into overcooked noodles, but they did anyway. He clutched to Abed’s nape with urgency, with an unspoken _you’re my lifeline now_ , and Abed had no way of knowing Troy’s needs, but he knew, of course he knew; why else would he put his long fingers on Troy’s sides and drew him in, holding him close, keeping him standing, keeping him safe? If Troy weren't so intent on experiencing Abed with all of his senses, he'd stop breathing. How had he survived two whole years without this? And how, after experiencing it again, could he ever let go, even for a second?

“I missed you so much.” Troy whispered into the crook of Abed’s shoulder. “All the time.”

“I missed you too.” Abed said, very quietly. “Sorry for the banner pun. I realize it’s not as seamless as “Bon Troyage”, but Annie insisted.”

“It’s perfect.” Troy breathed out, raising his head and gazing at Abed's face dreamily. “You know, for a sequel.”

Abed’s expression switched into something unrecognizable, a mix of surprised, happy, sad, confused, and unsure. Troy briefly wondered if the face was code for "bad", but his nerves were soon calmed by the widest Abed smile he’d ever seen in his life. Oh, how could he possibly survive this, how could he possibly keep his cool, when he was being smiled at like that. He wanted to tell Abed, he really did, but maybe not here, surrounded by all their friends, in a parking lot that smelled of old pee. No, he just couldn’t tell him now.

He could, however, look into his eyes, and stroke the back of his neck, and feel the impossible softness of his hair. He could adore him silently, like he’d been doing for such a long time. He couldn’t remember the time he hadn’t. Everything that wasn't Abed-related seemed foggy and distorted, like he was seeing it through the dirty aquarium in the Greendale biology lab.

“Ekhm.” Troy turned around to see Annie wearing an expression of feigned indignation. “I think I deserve a hug too, you know!” She smiled at the series of appreciative hums that her words seemed to incite.

“I wasn’t, um, gonna say anything and make you feel guilty, because that’s not what I’m about, but now that Annie’s mentioned it…” Shirley interceded with a clear intention of making Troy feel guilty.

Jeff just raised his eyebrows and rolled his eyes simultaneously in a clear attempt to stress that _he doesn’t care, but everybody else does (he does care, though, and come hug him already or he’ll break down crying)_.

And Britta? Britta just shook her head in disbelief at Jeff and shared a knowing look with Troy. _Come on_ , said the look, _you'll have plenty of alone time with him later._

Troy shot Abed one last lingering look before outstretching his arms invitingly, and suddenly he was crushed by loving limbs and familiar smells, and it felt like a thousand family dinners, a million weighted blankets, and an infinity of birthday presents. Abed kept hanging onto his side, apparently ignoring the threat of being affectionately smothered. The last remnant of the ocean breeze left Troy’s nostrils, but in that short moment, he too was okay with not breathing.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello! thanks to everyone who read, commented, and/or left kudos <3 just to let you know, i rewrote most parts of the epilogue and the first chapter, as i'd posted them in a bit of a haze. i haven't changed nor added anything particularly relevant to the plot, but if you want to, give the new (and not necessarily better) versions a read.
> 
> without further ado... next chapter. this one is a result of a hard day's work in the exposition factory, so brace yourselves

It had taken Abed a month to set the stage for the reunion episode.

To be precise, the actual, tangible part of picking and booking the venue had only taken two days. It had turned out that L.A. had an abundance of conference rooms for hire that resembled their old study room to a degree Abed deemed passable. The one he’d picked wasn’t too extravagant in terms of costs, and, more importantly, allowed for outside catering (Troy’s favorite pizza delivery) and seemed very liberal toward the eventuality of property damage.

What had proved the actual challenge was battling his wild emotionality, which he had long ago buried, and which had resurfaced after Troy’s phone call announcement. Abed had no reason not to be calm. He had his own spin-off, and he’d learned to enjoy it. And if hearing Troy utter the words _I’m coming back_ had caused Abed’s stomach to churn uncharacteristically, it hadn’t necessarily meant permanent damage. Reunion episodes didn’t tend to incite emotional overflows. They were usually half-hearted attempts at matching the once-magnificent screen dynamics and resulted in discouraging the already alienated audience. 

But Abed was a genius who’d never turned down the opportunity to give hubris a good name. He knew the reunion episode with him in charge would exceed all expectations and make hearts flutter. And he knew that it would ruin him completely when it’d end and he’d be forced to say goodbye again. Every genius meets their downfall eventually. Seeing Troy again was the start of Abed’s.

***

“It’s unbelievable!” Troy marvelled for the fifth time since laying his eyes upon the conference room. He was sitting at the corner of the table, his feet slowly making their way towards the surface area. The sight of him, back in his old spot, felt slightly dizzying. Abed struggled to look directly into his eyes, almost as if the very act could take him somewhere else, back to reality, back to his lonely, hot studio apartment, where the nightlight sometimes flickered in an amusing way, casting shadows on his wall only he could watch. “Did you have someone remodel it? Be honest.” Troy squinted his eyes and began leaning over Abed, apparently assuming the role of an interrogator and clearly struggling to maintain the severity his character demanded.

In his relatively short life, Clone Abed had tried many times to copy Troy’s bad cop gimmick. He’d found it funny enough to consider pitching it to one of the actors in his show, but could never get it quite right. But this, what Troy was doing at the moment, _this_ felt as right and as real as it gets. Abed’s own imagination could never fabricate this good a Troy in a million years. And it could never imitate the awe Abed’s actions seemed to elicit in Troy.

This particular instance of Troy’s wondernment was justifiable, to a point. The walls boasted the same blue hue as those enframing their home, and, more importantly, the paint appeared just as washed out. Every piece of furniture was made out of cheap bright wood, and the table closest to the entrance not only matched theirs in size, but had also been adorned with a considerable number of notches on its drawers. What the conference room lacked, were flyers on the cork boards, an abacus and a globe on the shelf, and a general aura of wackiness. Abed had thought about bringing some familiar items in, about trying to imitate the unique climate their friendship had grown in, but had ultimately made a creative decision against it. A pertinent liminality would best showcase the passage of time and the changes it had brought, he’d figured.

But the way Troy was inching closer, still trying to remain in character, but betrayed by his rapidly shallowing breaths, made Abed feel like nothing had changed at all. This face was still the only one Abed could easily decipher. These eyes still glistened with the same tongue of flame. This yellow sweater still looked as soft as ever. These hands were still reaching for him impatiently. And Abed was pretty sure the fast pace of Troy’s heartbeat still matched his own.

And then they simultaneously jolted back from one another, startled by a faint background noise, and a following realization that there were _four other people in the room except for them_. Abed was pretty sure that Britta’s, Annie’s, and Shirley’s faces had changed, but he had a hard time making sense of them.

Jeff, on the other hand, looked the same as before, except for the eyes, which weren’t fixed on his Blackberry anymore. The noise must have been him shifting in his seat and laying the phone on the table. “Yes, Troy, with his infinite riches and the natural advantages of a lowly P.A., Abed had an exact replica of our old study room made.” He said in his usual fashion, but Abed was pretty confident that the tone carried several hints of fondness. “It’s far more plausible than Craig just picking out the cheapest, most low-effort interior template. You know I once caught him pinning an ‘Emergency Exit’ sign to the utility closet door?”

Abed glanced at Troy, who was wiping his palms on his jeans and almost managing to breathe steadily. Aside from the dilated pupils, his composure seemed impressively intact. Must have been the whole “growing up” thing.

“Yeah, but that’s just health and safety, and not even the worst thing he’s done. When has the dean ever gone for cheap when it comes to _decoration_ , though?” Troy eventually spoke, in an ever so slightly high-pitched voice. He was rolling his eyes and smiling playfully, which left Abed slightly taken aback. Troy and Jeff’s rivalry used to reach the levels of intensity that could fuel engines, but now they just seemed more relaxed and at ease with each other. Jeff’s comment, snappy as it had been, had’d no malice to it. And Troy’s retort was much more in the likes of a friendly debate than of a game of thrones. Abed knew that they had always been equals, but now, he noticed, they also acted like it. “Pelton’s not our guy. Leave the investigation to _the professionals_ , Mr. Winger.”

“ _Noice!_ ” Britta exclaimed and reached for a fistbump with Troy. “You got some edge on that trip, Troy. And Winger got _cut on it_!”

“What kind of an expression is that?” Jeff scoffed at Britta, but the effect was slightly spoiled by the arm he’d put around her moments before, and the gentle way he’d been pressing his lips to her temple every third minute. “And are you trying a new ‘gotcha’ accent? Cause if so, I’d like to nip this in the bud.”

“I’ll nip you in the–”

“Guys!” Annie cried out. “We’ve only just gotten Troy back and our time together is limited. Can we spend it on catching up instead of keeping up the _old_ old married couple bickering?”

“Yeah, keep the nipping to the privacy of your own home, nobody wants to hear _that_.” Shirley said, making a dismissive hand gesture.

Abed couldn’t help but quirk his lips in a little smile. _This_ was the dynamic. _This_ was the show. So many things had changed irrevocably, so many things that should be making this impossible. Britta and Jeff in an established relationship, sharing a life together? Abed had always rooted for that pairing, but the way he’d imagined it, it would have never moved past the they-probably-will, or it would have damaged the fabric of the group. And yet, with a flick of a finger, Troy had managed to put everything back in its place, even if the place had gotten a brand new look. But then again, when hadn’t he? Troy couldn’t stop being the hero if he tried. That was why, Abed knew, he deserved to be the hero of a better story than Abed’s.

But for now, Abed The Director couldn’t worry about that. He had the reunion episode to deal with, and a good reunion episode demanded a catching-up round. The problem was, they’d all been staying in close contact, thanks to their group chat, and they were as caught up with each others’ lives as it was possible. But the audience wasn’t, and Abed had to think of a natural way to remedy that. They’d already covered Jeff and Britta, which left him with four of the Exposition Party to check off. Abed pondered simply acknowledging the pressing necessity of summations, but the spark of ambition that hadn’t left him since Troy’s call pronounced the move too repetitive, even for a reunion episode. A Meta Guy should avoid abusing their possibilities. If Abed was being honest with himself, he’d thought it would go smoother. What had happened to his unmatched planning skills?

“So, Shirley, tell me about that new business, you, like, barely mentioned it!” Troy spoke with genuine interest, scratching his beard sagely. He had _a beard_. It really, really suited him.

“Oh, I’m sure I told you everything there was to tell.” Shirley said and shimmied in her seat.

“Umm, you just said ‘gonna do a video game, how about that?’ and then a string of starry-eyed emojis.” Annie pointed out.

“Yeah, even Jeff and I don’t know what’s going on, and we buy sandwiches from you everyday.” Britta added, pointing a finger.

“Well, maybe I would have said more if any of you had bothered to ask me about it!” Shirley responded in what Abed had come to call her “second voice”.

“Troy’s asking.” Abed supplied.

“Yes, thank you, _Troy_.” Shirley said, shifting back to her sweet voice. “It’s not really a _business_ , it’s more of a… side project. I told you that Abed’s ex-girlfriend’s been babysitting Ben ever since I moved back? Well, one day I sat her down for some pies, we got to talking, and she tells me how much Ben loves mystery stories. So I tell her about my time with Butcher, you know, the washed-out detective? Turns out she has this assignment for her computer class, where she has to make a video game for kids? So she asked if she could use my stories for her game, and I hesitated for a second, because the premise sounded just a bit fruitless. I mean, two teenagers, one a babysitter, one working in a bakery, solving crimes together? But then I got to thinking... Kids these days, good sense doesn’t matter to them, all they need is some shooting and explosions. So I told her ‘Rachel, honey, if we can teach those kids some values through this thing, then I’m in for the ride.’ And we cut a deal. She’s really such a sweet girl… Sorry, Abed, is this bothering you?”

“Nope.” Abed said. “We parted on good terms. And I never liked the ‘My Ex is Off-Limits’ trope. Not only it reinforces possessive behaviors, it also robs us of potentially game-changing dynamics, like the one you just described. I might have to call Rachel and ask her if I could incorporate you guys' story into my sitcom. It practically writes itself.” Abed's mind cooed at the possibilites. Two underdogs with strong personalities that seamlessly arrive at a counterbalance traverse the ruthless domain conquered by egotistical creative directors, monetization managers, and the irrefutable rule of capital. Hijinks ensue.

“Ooh, that’s great! Because I was thinking… Rachel’s a lovely single lady, and _Tro-oy_ , now that you’re back… I mean, I don’t know where you’re gonna live, but I kinda assumed Greendale. I could fix you up!” She pouted her lips and stared at Troy, presumably expecting an answer.

Abed felt dizzy all of a sudden. He expected this. Well, maybe not with his ex-girlfriend in the mix, and not initiated by a certain good Christian woman, but he expected Troy to enter into a romantic relationship sooner rather than later. It was fine. It was natural. Normal. Fine. Abed was fine.

Troy smiled, but not the carefree, jovial smile that Abed loved to cause. His nervous smile. “This might be a good time to tell you…” Troy spoke tentatively, licking his lips. He took a few deep breaths before standing up from his seat. “I’m gay.”

For a few seconds, the room fell into absolute silence, the kind of silence that begged to be disturbed and knew it would momentarily get its wish.

“Oh my goodness! You are?” Shirley gasped, patting her chest.

Troy offered her another uncertain smile and exhaled. “Yeah. I figured out on the boat. I think I kinda always knew, you know? But I didn’t _know_ know until I had a lot of time to think and no escape from all this… thinkingness.” His gaze was shifting from one person to another in a nervous manner, but his voice stayed steady. “And I hope you can all accept that, because you’re my friends and you’re important to me.”

The silence dawned on them once more, which left Abed wondering whether he should offer some distraction. The worst possible thing that could happen was Troy feeling hurt, rejected, and overwhelmed. Abed couldn’t honestly say that Troy’s words had come as a surprise – it all made sense, character-wise. But the manner in which Troy had chosen to deliver the news – the big announcement, the risky coming-out scene – that was very unexpected. Letting it end badly… Abed didn’t even consider the possibility. He began to scour the surroundings for a potential McGuffin, preferably a missing writing quill. Unfortunately, the vent, which was conveniently located in the exact same spot as the one in Greendale, seemed to contain nothing of storytelling value. Not cool. Not cool, not cool, not cool.

“Aww, Troy!” Annie said in her “I love butterflies” voice, and Abed almost collapsed with the reverse weight of his relief. “I’m so happy for you. Thank you for telling us.” She stood up and skipped towards Troy before enveloping him in a tight hug. Abed could already see the tears forming in his eyes, but he stayed silent. “And I’m sure _everyone_ here feels the same as I do.” She glared at Shirley, whose lips parted minutely.

“We-ell, it’s a bit… unexpected.” Shirley cleared her throat and smoothed the surface of the table with her palms. “But you’re important to me too, honey. You’re my family. Of course I accept it.” She raised from her chair and moved to join the hug.

“Yeah, I’m really glad you were able to figure it out, buddy.” Jeff spoke, and unless he forgot to inflect, he was being wholly earnest. “Now you get to live your own life, like the incredible man you are.” Accepting his fate, Jeff sauntered to the other side of the table and put his arm around the still unhugged part of Troy’s shoulder. “And, by the way, Shirley, I don’t see what’s so ‘unexpected’ about it. You never made a big deal out of me dating all those guys.”

“Out of what now?” Shirley’s head leapt upwards to meet Jeff’s gaze.

“Yeah, that’s new.” Troy finally spoke, his voice raspy from the tears.

“Oh, come on! He wasn’t exactly subtle about it.” Britta rolled her eyes. “Rich? That dude from his gyms who always chewed grape-flavored gum? Duncan? Jeff’s as bi as they come. Why do you think we’re dating? Our whole relationship is based upon bi solidarity.”

“Wait, you’re bisexual too?” Annie’s eyes widened. “How am I only hearing about this now?”

“I really thought you guys knew. Now, can I get in on this hug or not?” Britta climbed on top of the table and crawled over to the mushy area.

Abed was the only one to remain seated and silent. He’d been waiting to speak for a few minutes now, and had only stopped himself so as not to interrupt the scene unravelling before him. But the five pairs of eyes that dug straight into him were a pretty clear indication that his time had come.

“My turn? Okay. First of all, I’m bi too, in case you didn’t know. I assumed you did, but the tendency to overlook it that our group seems to have is worrisome, and I’m not letting the director of my future biopic paint me as straight. Plus, solidarity. Pew, pew!” Abed’s finger guns were greeted by Jeff’s, Britta’s, and Troy’s own.

“Are Annie and I the only heterosexual members of this group?” Shirley asked, probably still recovering from the string of revelations. Abed spotted Annie dropping her gaze to the floor and biting her lower lip, but she quickly raised her head and schooled her features into neutrality. He decided not to bring it up at the moment.

“Second, and most important, of all, I’m really happy for you, Troy.” He said, and hoped his tone showed how much he meant it. “It’s a very satisfying character arc for you. You’ve let go of the remaining societal expectations that limited you and are ready to be yourself openly. Thank you for trusting us enough to share it.” And finally, Abed stood up from his chair, and the group embrace was completed. He managed to squeeze himself between Annie and Troy in such a way that Troy’s face was lightly pressing into his chest. Abed hooked one of his hands around Troy’s waist, gently bringing him closer. He was rewarded with an answering hand placing itself on his own lower back. For a while, they just stood there, Troy’s tears dampening Abed’s sweater, and Abed dropping a single tear onto the top of Troy’s head. For a while, they just stood there, holding everyone, but each other most of all. 

When their friends’ arms around them began to loosen, both of them lingered for a split second. And if Abed still believed, in the back of his mind, that he was bound to lose, his resolve had cracked just enough for a flicker of hope to nestle in its crevice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for reading <3 if you feel like it, leave kudos and comments, i really appreciate them!
> 
> you can find me on tumblr @annieedisongf. it's always trobed and lesbiannie hours there


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